


Confess

by Lex_of_Gotham



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: (Cuz Jason lol), (Not Flashpoint Universe Tho), AU, Acrobat!Dick, Civilian AU, Egregious misuse of Catholic terminology, Father Todd AU, I'm probably doing it all wrong, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, Priest Kink, Religious Guilt, Seriously don't read this if you're religious, depowered AU, i don't know what i'm talking about, mentions of past death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-01-27 21:41:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12591136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lex_of_Gotham/pseuds/Lex_of_Gotham
Summary: Jason Todd thought that he had left all thoughts of his sexuality behind when he'd decided to pursue a life of faith. Turns out, when Haly's Circus takes up residence in a local Gotham theatre and he catches a glimpse of one of the performers, he was very wrong about that. He's led to wonder if his pursuit of the church was ever really about faith at all, or just searching for a home he was never really meant to find...Dick Grayson is nervous about the idea of setting up Haly's in one place after being a travelling circus for so long. But it's adapt or die when the circus comes into his ownership and he's hoping he's doing what's best. Problem is, he's lonely and Gotham is a cold, dark sort of city. Maybe he'll find a cure for his loneliness inside the warmth of a small inner city church.





	1. Faith Shaken

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, so I'm totally making up the religious stuff as I go along with this. For one thing, Jason is like... five years too young to be a priest, technically. I'm gonna handwave that shit away and say that this is a Gotham specific denomination or something that allows younger priests. I have NO IDEA if that's a thing, but it is in my universe, okay? Okay. 
> 
> Also I'm probably using the wrong words for things. Are a preacher and a priest the same thing? I assume they are. Just roll with me here, okay, we're all just here for some angst and some eventual smooches, right? Right. 
> 
> I just wanted some priest kink and then Jason had to go and be all feelsy about it. And then Dick went and got all depressed too and now they aren't even having sex or anything yet so I guess this is gonna have more chapters? I don't even know what's happening, why are you reading this?

It started out like any other day. He woke up early, said the morning mass, ate some breakfast, swept the cold church floor and polished the pews. It all came naturally now. He’d been here so long. The scent of candles and beeswax was comforting.

Jason Todd had walked into the church for the first time when he was twelve years old, which was eight years ago now. He had seen the warm light of candles and walked in hoping for some place out of the cold, a skinny thing with hollow eyes that spoke of things he was too young to endure. The priest at that time had been a grandfatherly gentleman, who looked at Jason with a gentle expression and offered him something to eat. Stubborn thing that he was, he’d refused the charity until the man had offered him chores to do around the church in exchange, not trusting that there were no strings attached to any gifts given.

Despite that initial mistrust, he did end up coming back. It was quiet there. The church was a peaceful hideaway from his mother’s drug use and his father’s neglect and occasional abuse. No one tried to hurt him here, no one really paid attention to him at all, for the most part. It was a nice spot to nap and a dry place to stay when he couldn’t stand to go home.

It had taken a few years for him to come around to the faith. So much bad happened, it was hard to believe there could be any reason for it, that there was good out there when all he had experienced was pain. But eventually he’d started coming regularly, even when he didn’t need a place to sleep or a shelter from the rain. In time, he found comfort in the scripture, in the order of the church, in the stability of traditions and old buildings that stood the test of time. He’d been young when he decided to join the clergy, but he’d been stubborn and certain and no one had been able to talk him out of dedicating his life to the only good thing he had left in his life. After his mother’s death, he’d lost a lot of hope, and this place had been the only thing to restore it.

Which wasn’t to say that the path was easy. There had been an accident when he was fifteen that had nearly killed him, it technically had for a few minutes. But the miraculous recovery he’d made had only cemented his certainty that he had a purpose and he needed to give his life to it. God must have saved him for a reason.

Then the old priest had passed, and Jason had mourned him with many silent tears and prayers, for the man had cared for him like his own father never had. He’d fully let go of his violent life, then. He’d stopped searching for all the bad and started trying to be a force of good. It had taken some convincing to allow him to take over where the old man had left off, he was barely out of his teens, after all. He was so young to take on so much.

And then, there he was, looking after the church himself, wearing the white collar and shepherding his small but dedicated flock. He occasionally tried to help wayward kids like he had once been, not really all that long ago. He liked to think that his experiences helped him relate. He was well loved in their small community. People had recognized him from the last couple years since he’d turned 18 and taken on the mantle. So when he took over they welcomed him. He still wasn’t great at giving sermons, public speaking still felt unnatural. But he had a way with people, a natural passion that made him endearing. And his congregation supported his efforts and gently corrected his mistakes. This was home, this was where he was meant to be.

“Father Todd?” queried a young woman, smiling softly at the young preacher. “Were you still planning on going to the market?”

“That’s the plan, yeah. I wouldn’t mind company, if you were going too.” He said with a gentle expression. The girl was no older than fourteen, and she had taken to coming by a lot. He got the impression she didn’t want to spend much time at home. So he indulged her now and then. He knew how important it could be to know someone out there cared.

She looked excited and asked if her friends could come too, which he agreed to. Soon he had a little gaggle of excited tweens all talking over each other, following him like ducklings.

They walked to the market together. It was in the better part of town, where the buildings looked newer and the roads were better maintained. But there was a variety of people congregated. Farmers selling fresh produce, artists selling wares, performers singing and playing instruments, everyone hoping to make a little bit of a living. Jason was there mostly for the food, fresh fruit and vegetables were a luxury he indulged whenever he could. The kids got sugary maple candies and sticky sweet treats from different stands, running around excitedly to watch performances.

Jason didn’t really care for the arts, for the most part. He could appreciate some of it, sure. He respected the skill it took to learn to do things like paint or play an instrument. But he didn’t have an artist’s soul, he supposed.

The only people that ever really caught his attention were the dancers.

There was a physicality he could relate to, in dancing. He’d been a scrapper, back before he’d left that rage and violence behind, but something in him still missed the pulse of it. Of movement and sweat and feeling your heartbeat racing. He recognized some of that in dancing, and he supposed it called to him.

He felt some of that pull today, glancing around as he backed away from the stand where he was buying fresh peaches. There was a group of acrobats doing quick stunts together in a wide space at the center of the market. They were incredible to watch, and they had a poster up showing times when they were performing at the local theatre. That theatre had recently been bought by owners from out of town, Jason remembered, so these acrobats must be trying to advertise for the new owners.

As he watched the performance his eyes were drawn to a man off to the side, grinning as he clearly waited his turn to perform. He was… Jason didn’t want to think _beautiful_ , that would be inappropriate. But it was the only word that came to mind. He was shorter than Jason, athletically built and he was clearly not afraid to show it in that tight spandex. He had eyes that were _so_ blue, a stunning smile, and... Jason had to quickly look away before he allowed his thoughts to go places they shouldn’t.

Jason was aware of his own attractions to men, he wasn’t completely dense. But the church had taught him not to give in to that sort of deviant temptation. So he looked away and he told himself that noticing when someone was attractive was just appreciating God’s work, and so long as he didn’t let his thoughts stray further it was fine. Being gay or bi or anything other than straight was frowned upon, not just in the church but in the neighborhood he’d grown up in. He’d seen kids beaten half to death for daring to be different like that. And while he’d never really understood why God would make his children feel such things and then say they were wrong, he had still buried the desires very deep inside himself.

But then the man started to move.

Jason was entranced. Bewitched, even. The man tumbled, flipped, _flew_ through the air like gravity had no hold on him. All with an enchanting smile like he was the happiest man alive. He was graceful in a way Jason was not used to, a strong, masculine grace that was beautiful to watch but also stunning in its athleticism. He must be so strong to move his body like that, to make it look effortless. But whatever effort never showed. He flowed like water. The long lines of his body twisted through the air, flexible as a cat and just as agile. Jason had never seen anything like that, it felt like all the air in his chest was being compressed by his pounding heart.

Jason didn’t even realize how long he’d been standing there watching until one of the kids returned to his side and tugged his sleeve. He jumped at the touch, making the kid flinch, clearly expecting a slap, and Jason turned to them with an apologetic expression. “Hey, sorry, you just startled me, that’s all.” He felt terrible for scaring them.

“Gracey told me to tell you that her and the rest of us have to head home.” The boy told him, he couldn’t be over ten.

Jason nodded, “Uh, yeah, alright. You guys get home safe, okay? I’m glad you all had fun.” he said, feeling off center.

When the kid ran off Jason told himself to just go, get back to the church, get ready for the evening Mass. But some instinct made him turn and look back at the performers. He was just in time to witness a bow and when the man stood straight again his eyes caught Jason’s. Jay stood completely still, staring for what felt like an eternity into the blue, blue eyes of the stranger. A slow smile was offered to him and he swallowed thickly, turning away quickly and rushing to get away. He didn’t run, but it was an unnecessarily fast walk.

His heartbeat was throbbing in his ears, he couldn’t remember ever feeling so...affected by someone before. He retreated to the stone walls of his church and headed to the back where his living quarters were. He dropped his purchases on the counter of his tiny kitchen and buried his face in his hands. He whispered a fervent prayer for forgiveness, guilt making his throat feel tight. He sighed deeply when he finished praying, looking down at his hands and nervously starting to put away the food he’d bought. He’d really thought he had those urges under control, he thought he was content not to think of that ever again. But obviously he needed to try harder.

//

Dick was a little unsure about Gotham. The people here seemed hard and dark and there weren’t many smiles to be had. But, when Haly’s had started to lose business and their traveling expenses had gotten to the point where they were bankrupting the circus, it had been Dick himself who’d suggested they move into a theatre, find homes for their animals and focus on the human performances instead.

Gotham had an initiative, headed by the Martha Wayne Foundation, to try and get more artists and culture into the city. It included a reasonable subsidy to help them get started, and considering all the financial hardships it had seemed like the best choice at the time.

Then they’d actually gotten there and Dick had started to think that he’d made a huge mistake. There was no way they’d get people to the theatre, they’d all just end up washing out and the legacy he’d grown up with would crash and burn.

Life hadn’t been all that nice to Dick Grayson… He would vehemently deny it if anyone expressed that opinion to him, but it was true. He’d lost his parents in a trapeze accident, at an age where grief was new and terrible and so, so painful. He’d never really found anything that filled the void that their deaths had left inside him. He’d been kept by the other families in the circus, but he’d never really felt like he belonged again. The only solace he’d found had been in performance. Outside the ring, he was full of fake smiles, warm chatter, and bad jokes. None of it real, all of it just another kind of act. Because his depression as a child had made people worry, had made them fret and fuss over him and it just made it worse. He did love his circus family, he would do anything for them. But he wasn’t the same boy after what happened. He just wasn’t.

But in the spotlight he was alive again.

He swore he could feel his parents’ spirits with him when he was flying through the air, supporting him, keeping him safe. With crowds cheering and air whooshing past his ears, there was no room for melancholy. He threw every part of himself into his acrobatics, he trained when he wasn’t performing and he trained others with a passion for performance and, most importantly, safety. No one got on the wires until he personally inspected them. He would not watch someone else get hurt like that, not ever again.

It was that sense of responsibility for the others that had led Haly himself to will the circus into Dick’s possession when he passed away. A burden that Dick had certainly not asked for, but he took it. What else could he do?

And now everyone was relying on him to get them through this. He just hoped he hadn’t ruined everything.

The first hopeful sign had been that performance in the market. Amidst all the dull and drab and dank of Gotham, this little market was full of colour and beauty. There were artists here, dancers, performers, creators! There were children running back and forth and laughing, there was a life here that Dick had thought was missing in this city. His smile as he waited his turn to show off was a genuine one, a hopeful one.

He didn’t spot the young man watching him until he actually stepped up. He didn’t know how he’d missed him until then. His eyes were electric, bright teal, and his hair was striking, with a white stripe in the front. And those were just the features that stuck out at first glance. It was a good thing Dick’s body knew these movements without any input from his brain, because his mind was focused entirely on the stranger in the crowd.

The way he watched Dick, like he was mapping every twitch of muscle was… gratifying, even if it was just appreciating the performance aspects. Especially when Dick himself was so enthralled by the man’s face. He looked young, but hard, the way Dick had noticed a lot of Gothamites looked. But there was a softness in those eyes, and a subdued strength.

Dick didn’t notice the priest’s collar until the end of the promotional performance. The man had, disappointingly, turned away from him, looking at a child? Dick missed the exchange when he bowed, looking up again to find the man looking directly at him once more. He had smiled, hoping for an answering expression. The look he got instead was almost… afraid?

That was when he noticed it and his throat felt a little thick. It never would have occurred to him, that someone so young was a priest, but there he was and Dick had probably looked like he wanted to eat him alive. He sighed internally, flashing a smile at the crowd that remained. The rest of his time at the market was spent handing out flyers and trying to talk people into seeing their weekend shows. He didn’t think he was as convincing as he could have been, distracted by the memory of the young man’s broad, retreating back as he’d left.

He’d been talking to an older woman about the theatre when he’d just blurted out the question on his mind, looking a little sheepish when he interrupted her story about how old the theatre was and how she’d gone there as a girl. “There was a young man earlier, wearing a priest’s collar, do you know him?” he’d asked, “H-he just seemed so young, for that, and um… He had white in his hair… I was just curious, I’m sorry.” When had words become so hard; he was normally good at this!

The woman had smiled indulgently at him, nodding slowly. “That’s Father Todd.” she said, “Such a nice young man, he took over the church on 52nd after the old preacher died.”

Dick looked thoughtful at that, pondering.

The woman continued through Dick’s silence. “He grew up here, you know,” she said. “Little Jason Todd. He was a good boy, when he wasn’t fighting. Always looked after the little ones.” She seemed nostalgic and Dick paid attention as she waxed poetic about the neighborhood and the hardships of growing up in Gotham. She didn’t give many personal details, he got the impression she only really knew him through reputation. Still. He had a name, and a location, and …

He shook his head, sighing at himself. And what? He was talking about a Catholic priest, here, not some guy he’d run into at a club. He couldn’t just show up and say that he’d been blown away by his pretty eyes and could he get coffee with him sometime? If he didn’t get told he was damned forever, it would be shocking.

But. Dick wasn’t completely unfamiliar with Catholicism, his father had been Catholic. So… maybe he could just see the church? Maybe it would be nice. Like listening to his father when he’d read bible passages to him...

//

 

It was a sturdy old building, in a dark neighborhood. It stood like a lighthouse, with warm light shining out into the grungy street, offering sanctuary for those inside. Still, some of that roughness showed in the couple of boarded up windows, the lack of ornamentation that many churches had. No stained glass windows or gold filigree, just hard, rough stone and open doors. Dick thought it seemed rather more homey than most churches, more like a real place than hallowed ground.

But when he walked in the front doors, there was a familiar hush, like you’d stepped somewhere outside of the world. Like this was a peaceful place, away from the din and violence outside. Sacred. Still.

He walked slowly to one of the back pews, keeping his footsteps light and quiet. He was a little late, the service already begun. So he took a seat where he wouldn’t disturb anyone’s prayers and kept his eyes forward.

Lit from all sides by candles, Father Jason Todd looked almost ethereal. His youth really showed here, relaxed and more in his element. Though, as a performer, Dick could see some nervousness in the set of his shoulders, the movements of his hands. But the security, safety… the peace of this place really seemed to radiate out of Father Todd.

It was Dick’s turn to watch as if entranced, taking in those ocean eyes, bright with fervour and faith. Jason’s strong features, soft mouth turned in a slightly crooked smile, like the expression didn’t quite know how to take over his whole face. He had rough hands, scarred from fighting, but gesturing emphatically, full of surprising gentleness. Dick didn’t hear a single word of the sermon, but by the end of it he had a thorough fascination with the man speaking it.

 

//

 

Jason saw Dick walking into the church the moment he opened the doors. It was hard not to notice when he came in late, but normally a late parishioner wouldn’t have caused the momentary pause in his sermon that this man did. He felt his throat tighten for a second, his heart beating faster. But he recalled a split second later what he was doing and he continued. The gathered people didn’t even notice the misstep that the stranger had caused. But Jason couldn’t stop watching now, his mouth running on autopilot while his mind raced.

The man was out of his leotard now, wearing dark jeans and a hoodie. He had his hands in his pockets, curled into himself like he was cold. Perhaps he was used to warmer places than Gotham. He still moved like something out a dark fantasy of Jason’s, like something graceful and dangerous and terribly beautiful. Every temptation that trailed cold fingers up Jason’s spine, personified. Like he’d walked straight out of an adolescent wet dream just to put Jason’s world off kilter.

He wrapped up the sermon as naturally as he could, with how distracted he was. As people started filing out of the church, some coming up to talk to him while most left, Jason finally managed to tear his eyes away from the man in the back pew, hoping silently that he would just quietly leave. He spoke to some of the people who wanted to talk to him, sharing smiles with the kids he knew hung around just for the attention he would give them. Attention they didn’t get anywhere else. But, sure enough, once everyone else had left, the stranger remained. He looked over to find him standing in front of a row of candles, looking lost in thought.

He approached slowly. He couldn’t very well blame this man for his own attraction to him, after all. He swallowed the guilt and hunger and walked over to him. Never let it be said that Jason didn’t face his problems head on, even if he was the only one who considered them problems.

“You’re new.” he said.

Dick turned to him and smiled a little sheepishly, his mussed hair falling over his eyes. “Yeah. I’m with Haly’s, we just moved here.” he said, holding out a hand. “I’m Richard Grayson. Everyone calls me Dick.” he said, his expression full of friendliness.

Jason took his hand and shook it, both of them surprised by the strength of the other’s hand. “Jason Todd.” he answered, locking eyes with the man for a moment before he quickly looked away. “I saw your performance at the fair. It was impressive.” he said, raising his eyes once more, determined to look at Dick and not feel that surging heat in his blood. So far, determination wasn’t cutting it. “You’re here to join the congregation?” he wondered, some part of him hopeful. If Dick was devout at least it would minimize the chances of any sort of mutual attraction. Jason wasn’t sure why the thought of that filled him with utter dread, but it did.

Dick looked sheepish again, shaking his head. He didn’t want to lie, after all. “No. I’m not as good a Catholic as my father was, I’m afraid.” he said, lifting his eyes to the candles in their tall holders, the golden lights shining on his face. “I saw you in the crowd at the fair and I was curious…” he confessed.

The fact that he’d been noticed too made Jason’s heart skip a beat. His mouth felt dry and he swallowed thickly to get rid of the feeling. “Well, we’re not the biggest church in the area, but we’re tight knit. We look out for each other.” he said, finding himself admiring the sloped curved of Dick’s throat before he caught himself and turned away.

Dick smiled a little at Jason’s words, the small community reminding him of Haly’s. “I know how that is…” he said, turning to watch as Jason started snuffing out candles, needing to keep himself busy. “Can I ask you something?” he wondered in a slightly nervous tone.

Jason glanced back at him and then at the candle he was putting out, “What’s that?” he wondered back.

Dick hesitated, a personal question on the tip of his tongue. But there was a tension in Jason’s shoulders that had him stopping. “Does Gotham ever stop raining?” he asked instead, laughing a little at himself. “It seems like it’s always damp and cold here…”

Jason relaxed a little at the innocuous question, “You’ll get used to it, don’t worry. It’ll make you appreciate the warm days in summer more.”

Dick chuckled a little, watching Jason with a look that was almost like longing, though Jason couldn’t see it. “The people here seem to love the city… I wonder if I’ll love it too.” he murmured quietly.

Jason finished snuffing out a grouping of candles, the shadows in the church longer now, the muted light more intimate. He looked over at Dick, seeing the way the shadows seemed to surround him, and it occurred to him that he hadn’t seen anyone else with Dick, here or at the fair. He was bright, and alone. The other performers hadn’t circled around him, instead he’d performed alone, isolated. A single star threatening to be swallowed up in Gotham’s dark. The thought made his chest ache.

“Gotham… she isn’t always a kind city.” he said, quietly. “But she has finer points, if you know where to look for them.”

Dick looked over at him, a little sad and solemn, but even now he smiled. “Maybe you could show me some time?” It would’ve sounded like a bad come on from anyone else, from Dick it just sounded… lonely.

“Sure.” Jason found himself saying before he could think about it. But how could he refuse. Those blue eyes were full of sincerity. Full of need.

Dick’s smile widened and Jason was just lost.

 


	2. Free Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason shows Dick around Gotham, Dick has uncomfortably naughty thoughts about a priest and Jason confesses his sins.

Jason was so screwed. He couldn’t do this.

Dick had asked when he might have free time, and it just so happened that at the beginning of the week, after Monday mass, his parish was pretty much taken over by older priests from the inner-city churches. It varied week to week who it was, but they insisted that he couldn’t be there every day, running the place by himself. So, he was forced into days off. Jason was pretty sure they mostly just did it to make sure he wasn’t screwing up too badly.

Father Mulcahy had been a well loved and respected man, he’d had a lot of friends, in and out of the clergy. When Jason had taken over his church there had been a lot of people who had disapproved of the placement. He understood, the man had been the only father figure that he’d ever think of as any good, Holy Father aside. And Jason was young, inexperienced and… well, not the most devout of the devout… But it still got on his nerves that everyone was always tripping over themselves to take the place away from him. He loved that church, he took damn good care of it. It was home and he would protect it with his life if he had to.

But, the days off were probably necessary, he conceded. Even his predecessor had taken at least one day every week or so to do something for himself, even if it was something small.

… Like showing a new potential friend the sights around Gotham.

Except that didn’t feel very small.

And it didn’t feel all that friendly either. Not when the prospect was making his palms sweat and his stomach flutter. He wasn’t a teenager anymore, he had no idea where this was all coming from. Hell, even when he had been a teenager, he’d never been like this. He’d had the occasional crush, sure. On girls as well as boys. But he’d always had so much going on, and being angry and bitter didn’t leave room for flights of fancy and romantic feelings. Even if he’d allowed himself to think about the guys he’d been attracted to, consider what he wanted to do with them seriously, he’d inevitably have upset himself thinking about how he’d be rejected for being worthless. Teenage Jason had not been great with the self esteem.

A girl had kissed him once, in tenth grade, just before his accident. He remembered she’d been from out of town, and her hair had smelled nice. She’d been getting picked on by some other girls, Jason had told them they were stupid whores or something equally crude and sexist, but it had made them leave. She’d thanked him for standing up for her and asked if she could buy him lunch as a thank you. He’d tried to refuse but she’d been insistent and very cute and he’d inevitably given in. At the end of what he hadn’t known was a date she’d planted a kiss on him, rather suddenly. He wondered how she was doing now. He hoped after she transferred out of Gotham that she got picked on less.

And other than that, his experience was pretty much limited to the lewd come ons people used to throw at him when he hit his growth spurt at 17, and the one time last year he’d been cornered by one of his parishioners who was having marital troubles with her husband and thought the solution was to try to jump the preacher. That had been nice and awkward.

The point was, that he hadn’t dealt with this before, and he didn’t know how to deal with it now. He’d thought that he just… wouldn’t feel like this anymore. Sure, maybe he’d look at someone and think they were attractive, like he had when he was younger. Maybe he’d want them. But he’d just wave it off, it wouldn’t be a big deal. It wasn’t like he’d ever had a particularly high sex drive, even if he did have to acknowledge that he had one.

But then Dick Grayson had handsprung into his life and completely fucked that whole theory up. He’d never been attracted to someone like he was attracted to this man. He’d never watched someone like he wanted to catalogue every motion they made. Which wouldn’t be an issue except that Dick was also really earnest and lonesome and wanted to spend time with Jason and Jason had already agreed to show him around Gotham, and given Dick his phone number.

Talking to Dick on the phone the night before had been the weirdest experience of Jason’s life, the man’s voice in his ear like liquid honey, making his throat feel tight and his cheeks feel hot for no damn reason.

So here he was, waiting on the front steps of the church, wearing lay clothes, which he hadn’t done for awhile. Because he was weak as all hell, apparently, and after all those years of promising his urges towards men were no longer an issue, he was being proven a liar. He’d prayed more for forgiveness in the last week than he had in the last year. He was just thinking about turning back inside and phoning Dick to call this off when he heard someone calling out.

He looked up and there he was, rushing up the steps. Jason’s heart started pounding immediately. It was insane. How could anyone have such an effect on him?

“Father Todd!” Dick said, smiling brightly. “I’m so sorry, I know I’m late. I got caught up dealing with paperwork and lost track of time.”

Jason blinked. “A bit early to be working, isn’t it?”

Dick shrugged a little. “I get restless...” he said, his tone evasive, even as he continued to smile brightly. Jason got the distinct impression that while he had always defended himself with silence, Dick hid himself behind smiles. “So, where to first?”

 

//

 

Seeing Jason standing there, out of the collar, looking just like a normal man, all broad shoulders and solid frame, did things to Dick that he should probably feel very guilty for. If he was a more religious man he would probably be calling himself out for his sinful thoughts. But he just looked so… brooding and sculpted, with that faraway look in his eyes and that cut-glass jawline. Dick was a sucker for a nice jawline. Sue him. And without that clerical collar to remind him not to have bad thoughts, today was going to be an exercise in restraint… If he didn’t scare the man away in a homophobic panic it would be a, ha, _miracle_.

As it was, the young preacher looked nervous. Dick didn’t know if he was just shy or if he could already sense Dick’s impure thoughts. Was that a thing? Did you get training when you became a man of the cloth that let you tell when somebody was thinking sinful thoughts around you? Surely not. Dick was just paranoid because he knew he was a heathen. It was a good thing he’d already told Jason he wasn’t particularly Catholic, because if he’d had to go to confession their interactions would probably get a whole lot more awkward…

It wasn’t like Dick had asked Jason for this tour with impure intentions. He genuinely did want a local perspective on Gotham, and Jason seemed a lot more solid and trustworthy than anyone he’d met so far. He had no plans to make a move on the man. He could only imagine the disaster that would result in, if he did… But he was attracted, there was no way around that and Dick was never very good at concealing his feelings for people. He was a natural flirt and a contact junkie, magnetically drawn to the people he most wanted attention from. Those traits were not going to be a good combination in this situation… 

“Well, there’s a park not to far from here… Might be a good place to start.” Jason suggested, hands in his jacket pockets.

He looked _good_ in leather. In all honesty, his whole look was not what Dick would have expected. Snug jeans hugged his thighs just a hair tighter than was necessary, either by design or because Jason’s thighs were just naturally thick, it was tough to say, plus a devil red hoodie, underneath a well worn-in leather jacket. He looked more like someone who hung out in a biker bar than a church.

Dick wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, exactly. A sweater vest? But that wouldn’t have suited him at all. He was just thrown for a loop. He wanted to lean in and breath in the scent of leather and aftershave off the younger man’s neck…

He blinked when he realized he hadn’t responded for a few seconds too long and Jason was looking at him oddly. He flushed and cleared his throat. “Yeah, the park sounds fine.” He said, smiling sheepishly. “Lead the way.”

Oh, he was so screwed…

 

//

 

Jason led the way to the park, just a few blocks’ walk away, a pretty, little spot with a pond and a couple benches, hidden away between a group of tall buildings like a secret garden. It was out of the way enough that you might not immediately notice it, which may be why it wasn’t covered in litter and full of people. Jason glanced over as they headed down one of the bike paths through the park, watching as Dick looked around, his pasted-on smile relaxing into something a little more natural.

“Huh, so Gotham does have green places…” he said with a chuckle. “And here I thought that might clash with the gargoyles and the gritty atmosphere…”

Jason chuckled a little. “Hey, don’t make fun of the gargoyles. That sort of talk will get you beat up in some circles…” he said with a very small, teasing smile. “Gothamites are very attached to our gargoyles…”

Dick laughed and the sound was like bells, making Jason’s stomach swoop. “I’ll remember that.”

 

//

 

Dick wondered why Jason’s smiles never seemed to fit his face right. What his life had been like that he’d chosen to devote his life to God so young. The old woman he’d spoken to had said that Jason used to get into fights a lot, and his scarred knuckles and boxer-like build certainly seemed reminiscent of that. But that didn’t seem to be the whole story.

He didn’t dare ask.

They wandered the park a little. It was nice. Peaceful. Jason told him that he came here when he wanted somewhere quiet to think. It seemed like the perfect place to do just that. They were passed by the occasional jogger or couple sipping coffees together, but otherwise, this early, they were undisturbed in their walking. And, when the atmosphere started to feel just a little too intimate, like maybe they were one of those couples, making awkward, unsure conversation as they got to know each other, Jason turned them around to lead them out of the park and to their next destination.

Breakfast was at a tiny café, there was barely enough room at the counter for two broad shouldered men to stand next to each other to order, but when Dick sipped his vanilla bean mocha he very nearly moaned at the delicious sweet-bitter taste that spread over his tongue.

“Oh God, that’s _so good_ …” he said, glancing up at Jason self consciously when he realized what he’d said. “Uh, sorry…” he said, looking sheepish.

Jason smirked at him, an expression that seemed to come to him much more naturally than smiles did. “It’s fine.” He said, clearly amused by Dick’s self consciousness about his blasphemy. He nudged the plate of pastries they’d gotten towards Dick and sat back in his seat, sipping his own orange pekoe tea while he watched Dick pick up a buttery, soft, flakey croissant and break off the corner to pop it in his mouth.

This time Dick did moan, melting dramatically into the table. The pastry melted in his mouth like a perfect little buttery piece of heaven and his reaction made Jason chuckle which was totally worth being a drama queen. He thought he also detected a little bit of a blush spreading across the young preacher’s cheeks, but he wasn’t going to read into that. Maybe he just wasn’t used to people making inappropriate sex noises in front of him over delicious pastries.

“Clearly, I picked the right guy to be my tour guide.” Dick said, smiling at Jason and straightening up again.

He and Jason polished off a couple more pastries, all equally delicious, and left the café to continue walking. Dick couldn’t help but shiver when they left the warmth of the café. He’d gotten all nice and toasty thanks to the coffee and the food and now, back outside in Gotham’s chilly air he was reminded that he was really not built for the cold. Even in his sweater and shirt he was still feeling cold. It was September, it should not be this cold! The trees were barely even starting to change colour yet, but he felt like he was turn into one of those wind-up teeth chattering toys any second.

Jason gave him a sidelong glance. “You alright?” he asked.

“Yep.” Dick said, grinning and trying not to hug himself as they continued down the sidewalk.

Jason’s expression was doubtful. “So, where was Haly’s before here? Somewhere warmer, I’m guessing…” he said dryly.

Dick gave him a small glare, shoving his hands in his pants pockets petulantly. “We were in Vegas before… I thought we might stay there, but it’s a lot harder to carve out an audience there. More competition…” He said, sighing a little as he remembered. They’d had a fairly steady trickle of people coming to see them in Vegas, which was why they’d stayed in Nevada so long. But competing for attention with all the other acts that Vegas had to offer, acts that were more modern, more flashy, sometimes even more dangerous, it was exhausting. People had come mostly for the novelty of an old-fashioned circus and very few had come back to repeat the experience. And those that had only did for the acrobatics performances, usually. Which Haly’s was admittedly famous for, but it was still disheartening. “So, yes, it was warmer. I spend a lot of time in spandex. I don’t do well in the cold, okay?”

Jason choked a little and snorted. “Last I checked you weren’t wearing spandex _right now_. I’m not sure your logic holds up…”

Dick could almost swear that Jason was blushing a bit again. Maybe he was remembering when he had seen Dick in spandex? Because that would be interesting…

Wait. Bad thoughts.

He was supposed to be keeping those under control, he remembered.

Jason was a priest, he reminded himself. There was no way he was thinking about Dick in tights, as much as Dick liked to flatter himself that he looked damn good in them.

Or maybe he just really wanted Jason to think that.

He shrugged, hands still in his pockets. “Logic is overrated. And this sweater is doing nothing to keep me warm so I may as well have worn my leotard anyway…”

 

//

 

Jason would be having a much easier time curbing his urges if Dick wasn’t charming as well as physically attractive. It wasn’t so much that he was _trying_ to smooth talk Jason or anything. At least, Jason didn’t think he was. He didn’t see any reason why he would be. It was more that he was just… kind of adorable.

He talked about his circus family whenever conversation dried up, because clearly that’s what came naturally. Jason had learned more about these people he’d never met in the hour they spent in the park than he thought he would have if he’d been in a room with them each for a day.

And he kept catching Jason off guard with his reactions, his rare genuine smiles and his over the top enjoyment of the fare at the café. Not just because the sounds he’d made had evoked sinful thoughts that Jason had been forced to quash but also because Jason found it so appealing to be around him, to make him laugh, to laugh in return. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d just… sat around talking with someone like this and had someone get a real laugh out of him. He wasn’t sure he’d ever had. He’d never had many people he could call friends.

Even Father Mulcahy hadn’t been a friend, really. More of a father figure. He had never just chatted with Jason in a friendly way. It had always been emotionally-driven, deep heart-to-hearts with him. The sorts of talks that left Jason feeling lighter but sort of drained. Nothing like this, this sort of levity and brightness. This longing to tease, to evoke a reaction, just for fun.

It was intense in a totally different way than Jason had ever experienced before. And at this point Jason was so caught up in it.

He didn’t even really think about it when Dick said his sweater wasn’t helping to keep him warm, he just pulled off his jacket instinctively and tossed it over his shoulders. The implications of the action didn’t occur to him until after it was too late to take it back.

Dick had paused, a stutter in his step, not quite enough to trip him up, but enough to disrupt his rhythm. Those blue eyes had gone a little wide and Jason could faintly see a flush rising underneath the golden-tan colour of his cheeks.

“Y-you don’t have to-” Dick started to say, looking embarrassed. “I’m not that cold… I’m just whiney, really…”

Jason couldn’t take it back now, so he stuck to his guns, ignoring the heat in his face that said he was probably blushing too and on his paler cheeks it was bound to be a lot more noticeable. “You’re practically shivering. I’m used to the cold. Which, to be honest with you, it’s really not…” he said. He put his hands in his hoodie pockets and did his best not to raise his shoulders up to hide the flush he knew was now visible on his neck without his jacket collar to hide it.

Dick looked conflicted for a moment before he finally pushed his arms through the sleeves of Jason’s coat and zipped it up. “Thank you…” he said quietly.

“Don’t mention it…” Jason replied.

 

//

 

Jason’s jacket was sinfully warm inside from the other man’s body heat. The guy must be a walking furnace. The urge to curl up into it like a turtle shell was a strong one, but Dick resisted.

He was still kind of reeling from the gesture, the first-date-romance-movie-ness of it. But he honestly couldn’t tell if that’s what was happening or if his attraction to Jason was colouring his perception. It could have been an honestly thoughtful gesture, with no implication behind it. Totally innocent.

And it probably was. Fuck, he needed to stop thinking about this so hard. He’d said he was cold and the man gave him his jacket. He was a giver. That was a total Jesus thing, right?

So then why was Jason’s face so red?

Why did he look so young and shy and cute, like he’d just done something on impulse he hadn’t meant to, and now he was saving face?

Dick could faintly smell Jason’s aftershave on the collar of the jacket, the scent mixing with the smell of the leather. It was just as good as he’d been imagining earlier… Heady and masculine, tailored exactly to make Dick’s mouth water. He found himself glancing at Jason’s neck, imagining this scent closer to the source, imagining running his tongue up the column of that strong throat. It was so unfair that Jason had such a perfect neck for biting, that his shoulders looked like they’d fit Dick’s hands perfectly. Dick bet those narrow hips would sit snugly between his legs, that those thick thighs would feel just as nice to grind against as they were to look at.

Fuck, he should not have accepted this jacket. He swallowed thickly and tore his eyes off of Jason, trying to think of something non-sexy in the hopes of quelling the sudden heat in his blood.

They arrived at their next destination shortly after that, a fountain square that had been set up in a business section of the city. The Wayne Enterprises building, by far the most prominent structure nearby, stood loud and proud in the centre of the plaza. There were some statues and art installations, as well as a few benches, all surrounded by people going too and fro from their workplaces. It was the opposite of the park they’d started in, full of people and sound, an organized sort of chaos. It was slightly more Dick’s speed, seeing so many people, rushing all around. And the art installations were rather pretty, now that he looked at them. It was also obviously a nicer kept part of the city because there was no obvious grunge here. Everything was clean edged and modern, aside from the odd touches of the old city here and there that peeked through, all apparently lovingly restored. This was a part of the city with money in it, and it showed.

“Pretty, huh?” Jason said, looking at Dick.

Dick nodded, “I haven’t been this far uptown before… I’m surprised they have a little section like this for people to just walk around in.”

Jason shrugged a shoulder. “One of the old families here, the Waynes,” he pointed to the largest building, “They’re old money and even older influence. And they’re into keeping the city somewhat philanthropic. They put a lot of money into cleaning up and charitable organizations. The Martha Wayne Foundation that your theatre was purchased under? That’s them.” He said, looking a bit dubious about how credible he found these rich people’s contributions. “It all seems a little cosmetic to me, but I suppose their hearts are in the right place. Were. It’s just the one now, Bruce Wayne. He seems pretty keen to keep on cleaning the city up by throwing as much money at it as he can. I don’t think it’s quite that simple… But at least we get nice spots like this out of it.”

Dick nodded, glad to have the distraction from his lewd thoughts. He didn’t know enough about Gotham to really comment on the Wayne’s and their possible contribution, or lack of, to the betterment of the city. But having someone contributing had to be better than nothing, right? And the Martha Wayne Foundation had been a godsend when he’d needed it, so he thought that this Bruce Wayne guy was probably having more of a positive impact than Jason was giving him credit for. But he didn’t say so. He sensed a bitterness here that he didn’t want to uncover, a class-born sort of divide that he had never really understood. He’d always sort of been outside of that sort of thing, living as a travelling performer, never well-off enough to be called anything close to classy, and sometimes dangerously close to outright starving. But that financial instability was a day to day battle for a travelling performer, reliant on the whims of the public, the strength of your performance, and the fickle caprice of fate. And despite the fact that their financial hardships had put them in a similar boat to people in lower or, if they were doing well, lower-middle classes, they’d been just as disliked by them as they had by rich people. Being an outsider gave him a bit of a weird perspective on class politics.

The rest of their morning was spent people watching, walking around. Jason took him to another small locally owned place for lunch, a little diner this time, with perfectly greasy burgers that prompted even more pornographic groans out of Dick than the pastries that morning had. Their final stop had been a large public library, an old, old building with a hush inside that was almost churchlike.

Jason had looked a little shy when he’d brought Dick there. “I don’t know if this is gonna be your sort of thing…” he said, “I used to come here a lot when I was a kid. It’s got a little museum section with a history of Gotham and then the usual library stuff… I used to do a lot of reading here before I started spending most of my time at Father Mulcahy’s church…”

Dick smiled slowly, unexpectedly charmed by Jason’s shyness. He wasn’t the biggest reader in the world, but picturing a young Jason Todd here, hiding from the dark streets of Gotham in the pages of a book inside the peaceful hush of an old library was oddly compelling.

They were forced to part before he could enjoy the image too much, Jason apologizing and explaining that he had to return to the church.

“I understand. I should probably get back to the theatre…” Dick said, eyes soft. “Listen, Father, I really appreciate this. The city already feels a little more like home.”

Jason looked a little hesitant before he gave one of those half smiles, “Glad I could help.”

Dick licked his lips, hesitating as he looked at the other man. He had no right to ask any more. He slowly unzipped the borrowed jacket and pulled it off of his shoulders. “I… don’t suppose we could do this again sometime?” he asked, finally. And, oh, he knew it was a bad idea. That he was playing a game he’d just  end up losing badly. But there was that loneliness again, gnawing inside his gut like a yawning black hole and he was helpless against the pull. “If you don’t have time, I understand, I just… don’t know anyone else here yet. Might be nice… To have a friend.” He said,  glancing away.

And he couldn’t see the helpless look at Jason gave him, or the way that the younger man seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, but he heard him when he finally spoke. “Yes, of course. I’d like that.” He said, shaking his head when Dick held out his leather jacket. “Why don’t you wear it home and then you can bring it back when we meet up again? You can get yourself a better jacket in the meantime… I’d hate to think you turned into a popsicle on the way back.” He added with a smirk.

Dick glared a little but pulled the jacket back on. “Alright. I’ll see you later then, Father.”

“See you, Dick.”

When he was gone Dick breathed in the scent of leather and aftershave off the collar again, closing his eyes and biting his lip as he started the long walk home. God, this was such a bad idea. When was the last time a man had made him so weak kneed without even trying? And he was actively trying not to be attracted to the man! This was going to all come crashing down in the most epically bad way and he knew he was going to let it happen.

Because even if it damned him he had to know if there was even the slightest, tiniest hint of a chance.

And even if there wasn’t. Even if it never happened… he just liked Jason. Liked his company.

Which was exactly why this was all going to go so horribly wrong.

 

//

 

Jason returned to the church just in time for the afternoon confession, being conducted by one of the other Fathers that had taken over for the day. He swallowed thickly when he saw the open confessional, his chest tight with warring impulses. Part of him hated confession, hated having to air out his sins for someone else to hear, someone he knew was just as human as he was, as much as some priests liked to act like they weren’t. He knew it was part of the ritual, part of absolution, but he hated it. He’d much rather do his confessing alone, keep it between him and God if he had to. But he knew this is what kept him accountable, as a Catholic and as a priest. Having someone else listen, tell him how to repent. Being forced to tell someone else made it real, made it tangible and guilt inducing. There was a reason Catholic Guilt was such a famous thing.

He sighed at himself as he headed for the booth, stepping inside and kneeling, crossing himself.  “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” He said, voice low. “It’s been two weeks since my last confession.”

“Then let me hear your confession, my child.” Came the voice through the screen. A rather sour old man by the name of Father Valentin, if Jason guessed correctly. He really didn’t like Jason, and he hadn’t been a huge fan of Father Mulcahy either, before his death. Jason wasn’t totally sure why. He could just be a traditionalist. But he rubbed Jason the wrong way, in any case. But that didn’t matter right now. It meant that he was probably the last priest Jason would want to be making this particular confession to, but he was who was here and he would have to do. Jason had no reason to believe he’d break any confidences and tell anyone what he said.

“I’ve been…” he said, clearing his throat as he felt a lump form. “I’ve met a man that I have been thinking about… sexually.” He said, forehead falling on his hands as his face reddened in shame. “I know it’s wrong but I can’t seem to repress the thoughts. I… gave in to temptation and touched myself, thinking about him.” He admitted. The memory of it brought more blood to his cheeks. It had been so easy to give in, his cock in his hand, the memory of Dick’s voice in his ear through the phone, imagining the way his body moved during his acrobatics. It hadn’t taken much to reach the edge. “He wants to be my friend, I showed him around the city today. But I’m afraid if I spend too much time around him I’ll continue to have these… urges. I don’t want to give in to further temptations…” Except some part of him did. Some part of him that still questioned. Some part of him that didn’t believe the dogma as strictly as he was supposed to. Some part of him wanted to give in so badly it was almost physically painful. But he didn’t confess that. He kept that silent sin to himself.

“I would advise you to limit your time around this man. These homosexual urges you feel are unnatural, you know this.” The other priest told him. Jason gritted his teeth at his words. He’d known they were coming, but it still stung. “The fact that he brings them out in you so strongly is damning. One man, however tempting, is not worth your soul or your vows, Father Todd.”

Jason licked his dry lips. “But it’s not his fault that I have these thoughts, Father. If he chooses to come to the church, how can I turn him away?”

“If he is a Catholic man, then by all means, herd him as one of your flock and trust in God to quell your sinful lust…” Father Valentin said. “But a man who has not felt the holy light is more than likely a devil’s fruit meant to lead you astray, Father. A trap best left avoided altogether.”

Jason went silent at those words and Father Valentin told him his penance to conduct for his sins and they concluded the confession. He left the confession booth feeling conflicted. He didn’t buy Valentin’s hogwash about Dick being a devil-sent temptation meant to lead him off the path of righteousness, that was bullshit. But the fact that was how someone in the order saw the situation and indeed, how many probably would, was leading Jason to, once again, question his feelings about his faith.

He headed up to his rooms, thinking about the image of Dick, a little flushed and bashful, wearing his jacket which was just a little too big. He wondered again, why God would make him feel these things, this warmth, if these feelings were supposed to be wrong. And if they were wrong, why? Where was the sense in it?

He growled in frustration and threw himself on his bed, scrubbing his hands over his face. He wondered to himself, if Dick Grayson really was the forbidden fruit he was damned for falling temptation to… Was that really such a bad thing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dick totes has my leather jacket fetish, fyi. And I'm enjoying getting to have Dick fetishize the hell out of Jason for once, because usually in fics you see Jason waxing poetic about how incredibly hot Dick is. And there's gonna be a lot of that in this fic too, I'm sure. But Jason is a babe too, okay. 
> 
> Dick is just channeling all my dirty thoughts this chapter, I'm not gonna lie to you guys. Hope you enjoyed it anyway.


	3. Questioning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick anticipates the first performance in the new theater.
> 
> Jason wonders if he was ever really happy, or if his place in the church is just stable and familiar.
> 
> Both of them wait for a sign of things to come.

  
Dick awoke with a start when his alarm went off, gasping a little, feeling a cold droplet of sweat rolling down the side of his neck. He trembled a little in the faint morning light coming in through his window. But it wasn’t from cold. Not a temperature sort of cold, at least. 

He got out of bed and walked quickly to the bathroom, turning the shower tap as hot as he could stand it before he stripped out of his pajama pants and stepped into the spray. The near-blistering heat made him shudder. He planted his hands against the wall and just let the heat pour over his face and back, let the water chase away the faint trembles in his limbs. 

It couldn’t wash away the memory, though. Bodies on the ground, askew like broken dolls, blood and bone fragments and limbs bent unnaturally from the force of the impact. The dull thump and crunch they had made when they’d hit the ground, a sound he wasn’t sure he had actually been able to hear over the screams of the crowd, but that his mind had helpfully filled in anyway. He’d been at the top, just high enough not to be able to see their expressions when they knew they were going to die… But he had run down quickly. 

Nine years old and staring into the glassy dead eyes of his mother’s corpse, uncomprehending. Her blue eyes which he remembered every time he looked in the mirror. His father’s hand had been reaching out towards her, still trying to catch her on instinct, even as they plummeted to their deaths. He still couldn’t remember anything he’d done in those moments, whether he’d cried or screamed or both. All he could remember was their bodies, in horrible detail, so unnaturally broken, looking so wrong.  
These nightmares were nothing new, however. He knew exactly why his mind was forcing him to relive the trauma of the worst night of his life. He had the same dream every night right before a trapeze performance. 

And tonight was Haly’s very first theatre performance debut night. They all had to give their damnedest to put asses in those seats. Which, for Dick, meant banking on the famous family name and reviving the old Flying Grayson title. He’d been training, of course. He was as prepared as he could be. He was in top shape for this, there was little doubt that he could do the performance. It wasn’t stage fright that dragged his subconscious into that dark place.  
It was the knowledge that one slip and it could be him, or another acrobat. Another broken doll shattered on the floor. That was the thought that woke him in a cold sweat. That was the thought that followed him as he washed up and dressed, heading down from the attic apartment he’d taken as his own and down into the theatre. He’d check the equipment again. Just one more time before the performances tonight. Just once more…  
The rest of the circus had taken up residence in other parts of the theatre. Very few had opted to get their own apartments or residences outside of the theatre. Not yet, at least. It was a huge old place, there was room for them all. And they were all so used to being a community, being together in easy reach, just a tent flap away, that the thought of buildings and streets separating everyone was nearly unbearable. Dick suspected that if the theatre was successful enough some more might get comfortable enough in Gotham to want to have a space to themselves, but for now the comfort of home and family was paramount. And if they weren’t successful… Dick was pouring everything they had into this place, into them. If it tanked, they’d have to break off, find their ways separately. It wasn’t a happy thought, but it was what would happen. 

Dick shook off the fog of doubt. He needed to be confident if he was going to perform well. There were a few others out and about, checking equipment like him or doing stretches and practicing moves for the show.  
The theatre had two stages, one which was now permanently set up for trapeze and other aerial acts, and one for the rest. It had been briefly considered that they use both stages with temporary set ups, like they had in Vegas whenever they worked on stage, but Dick hadn’t been certain that the lighter built materials would hold up to longer amounts of strain. So, they’d gotten something stronger, something that would last even through full grown bodies literally swinging off it. Safety, safety, safety. Dick was sure everyone was sick of his paranoia. Here in the theatre they couldn’t even get up to the same heights they could in the big top, so it was already marginally safer just because of the location. But Dick’s need for safety checks was compulsive, he worried endlessly unless he checked with his own two hands. 

He knew it wasn’t healthy. But it was all he had. 

Once the equipment was double checked he headed to the kitchen for breakfast, smiling a little when he saw the coffee maker still half full of rich caffeine-y goodness. Sipping the bitter taste of slightly burnt coffee reminded Dick of the coffee shop he and Father Jason had gone to, where the coffee was nearly orgasmically better, and he’d managed to make the young priest laugh with his dramatic antics. It was a good memory, it brought a warmth to his eyes. 

He’d given Jason a ticket for the show, saying he understood if he couldn’t make it. Secretly, of course, he’d been very eager for Jason to come. Jason said he wouldn’t miss it and that had given Dick an extra bounce in his step for the rest of the day. He’d been a bit sad to return his leather jacket, but it had given him the opportunity to gift the tickets, so he didn’t really mind. Still, he could vaguely recall the scent of leather that had followed him home that day, an oddly comforting scent. 

They had met up again a couple times, quick visits this time, with Dick taking tea at the church, or heading back to the coffee shop for a quick chat. Jason seemed to have something on his mind, distracted and zoning out every so often. Dick had caught him staring, looking at him with furrowed brows and dark eyes, like Dick was a puzzle he was engrossed in. He’d tried to ask about it, but Jason had deflected all his attempts.  
Maybe he’d get the chance to talk to him more after the show. 

//

Jason was conflicted. On the one hand, he was attracted to Dick, and spending time around him only made those feelings harder to ignore. But on the other, he also liked the man, and wanted to be his friend. He’d never even had any indication that Dick was attracted to men. When he’d mentioned previous relationships in passing, it had been women. So, Jason reasoned with himself, even if he was to dive headfirst into his sinful attraction, there’s no guarantee that Dick would return the esteem. Better to keep smothering it until, hopefully, it would abate for good and Jason could just enjoy their friendship without all the struggle. 

Then he remembered the show tonight and he sighed at himself, scrubbing rough hands over his face. Dick’s acrobatics had been what started this in the first place. Seeing the man, alight in the spotlight, moving like gravity had no hold on him, all the time in skin tight spandex. Jason flushed as he remembered how enthralled he had been by Dick’s body that first time he’d seen him. How he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the shift of muscle and flexible twisting limbs for days after. Those thoughts haunting him like phantoms in his mind, ready to spring out and remind him that he was living a lie. 

He thought it more and more now. That this life he’d chosen for himself was a fabrication. He’d been comforted by the church, by Father Mulcahy. He’d found the stability appealing after his life had been nothing but chaos. 

But was he really a believer? He’d thought he was, after he’d died. He’d been so certain it must have been divine intervention.  
That night had been a rough one. Gotham was a rough city, and walking through her dark places in the middle of the night was never a good idea. 

He hadn’t seen or couldn’t remember the face of the man holding the crowbar. Considering the damage that crowbar had done to his head, it was likely the latter. He'd noticed a few holes in his memory since then, and the doctors had called his relative lack of brain damage a miracle. Sure, people had always called him thick-skulled, but he had never suspected that it would one day prove literal enough to save his mind. It had been blood loss, shock, and a collapsed lung that had caused his heart to stop in the back of the ambulance, the EMTs frantically jolting him back to life with a shot of adrenaline. He rubbed a spot on his chest where a tiny scar lay, barely noticeable if you weren’t looking for it. 

It all seemed too coincidental, having someone actually call 911, despite the neighborhood he had been in being notorious for not calling anything in, far too used to the sound of gunshots. Then again, he hadn’t been shot… Then the EMTs had gotten to him before he bled out, had gotten his heart beating again. The emergency surgery had worked, his brain intact, his body able to heal almost normal again. He had a fancy metal plate in his head to explain every time he had to go through a metal detector, but other than that and a whole lot of scars, he had really come out of it intact. Even the doctors had called it a miracle and he'd wanted so badly for that to be true. He wanted to believe that he was saved, that he had a purpose, that his life had meaning. But more and more lately it seemed like blind luck, not divine intervention.

And if he didn’t believe that anymore, what did that mean for the life he was living? He loved his little church, he cared about the people who came there. But. He had so many doubts. And not all of them were Dick's fault, either. A lot of it had to with his reawakened sexuality, reminding him that the faith he supposedly loved and supported did not love and support him back. However, that wasn’t all of it. Part of it was interacting with the other clergymen in Gotham, hearing them talk. The hate in their speech, how dismissive they were of other faiths, other cultures, races, people. Anyone who didn’t fit their exact idea of “right", meaning white, male, straight, and Catholic. And all that hate justified through the lens of religion. It had rolled off his back at one point, a relic of old priests, he had thought. But there were newer priests now, ones not that much older than Jason, 5 or 10 years older instead of 20 or 30. And they spewed the same supposedly justified venom. Apparently, there were churches run by people who didn’t believe that being like Jason made you an abomination, but Jason had never been to one. 

It was eating away at him slowly, this knowledge that others of his faith would, and in the case of Father Valentin did, hate him for how he was. And as much as he tried, he couldn’t control it, couldn’t choose another way. Which proved, yet again, that God must have made him this way. …Right? 

Which meant that it wasn’t wrong. If he had been born this way, crafted to feel attraction to other men as well as women, then it followed that feeling that way was okay. It made sense in his head, but his fear still told him otherwise. It told him he was damned.  
But some stubborn part of Jason bristled at that too, at this idea that he was damned and would always be damned, since he couldn’t control what was damning him. And if he was just going to go to hell anyway, why should he keep trying to be something he isn't?

He sighed as he checked the time and got ready to head to the theatre, double checking that the ticket Dick had given him was still safely tucked in his pocket. He felt like he was waiting for something. Some sign, perhaps. He was trapped between his increasing anxiety about living a lie, and the safety and security of staying where he was. He knew this life, even if he wasn’t suited for it. It may not be the comfort it once was, but it was familiar. And he was scared to try to be something else, even if it was more true to self.

He was still full of conflicting thoughts when he left, starting his walk to the bus stop. Just before he arrived, staring out the bus's dirty windows, he decided that, just for one night, he would give it a try. He would take the real Jason Todd out for a test drive, let himself pretend he was someone new. For tonight, he would be someone who wasn’t constrained by what the church told him was right. One night would be alright, and he was the only one who would ever know the difference anyway. With that thought he hopped off the bus at his stop and walked the remaining couple of blocks to the theater. It was getting chilly now, even by Gotham standards, frost nipping at the air as soon as the sun went down. So Jason kept it a brisk walk to keep himself warm until he reached the bright lights of his destination. 

He was a bit early, but there was still a small line he had to wait in to get his ticket checked. Then he was herded inside, led to his seat, which was front and center, of course. He'd be able to see the performers sweat from here. He wasn't sure how to feel about that, but he couldn’t deny that Dick had saved him a good seat. He settled in to wait for it to begin, recalling Dick's invitation to come back stage after the show was over and wondering if he was brave enough to take the older man up on that…

//

Dick peeked out from behind the curtain at the crowd as it filed in slowly. It was going to be a decently packed house. Not bad for their first performance. That would raise everyone's spirits, he thought with a small smile.

He spotted Jason in the front row, waiting there already and Dick's heart did a dramatic little stutter. He really hoped he wouldn’t be so distracted by him when he went out to perform… But it was good to see him there, to feel like someone was out there rooting for him, not just there for the novelty.

He let the curtain close and went to observe some of the others getting ready. He himself was already decked out, blue and black and glitter, his signature colours. Amongst his fellow performers in much brighter plumage, he would stand out like a raven amongst canaries. But that was kind of the point. He was the dark figure, stark and easily seen under the bright lights and easily hidden in the dark.

He just hoped he'd checked the equipment thoroughly enough…

//

When the performance began it was easy to get caught up in the excitement of it. Aerial dances performed to every kind of music; dangerous feats of daring; an archer in particular who caught Jason's eye, shooting targets with mind blowing accuracy, even blindfolded. There were stories woven in to some of the acts, men and women flitting around the stage like faeries, all sparkle and movement. 

It was during a story segment that Dick first appeared, joined by a female performer in contrasting white to his black. They moved around each other in the air, her graceful and shy, and him aggressive and flamboyant, as if he wanted her attention as much as the audience's. Even as she was lowered to the stage and began a dance of slow, delicate movements, Dick reigned above her, flying through the air at speed. He tumbled, a silk rope the only thing slowing his descent and keeping him level as he careened towards the floor, only to suddenly stop, his body perfectly horizontal to the floor, arms stretched out, one tangled in the rope to hold himself in place while the other reached out for her. She seemed to hesitate, and then swoon, taking his hand and letting them both be pulled back into the heights. 

This went on awhile, a story of seduction and retreat, Dick's aggressive flow softening into more relaxed grace as his partner became less shy. Always they came together again, clasping arms together in absolute trust as they flew through the air, often wringing gasps from the audience as a catch nearly missed or seemed to slip. They worked up to a climax, each on either side of the stage, the music rising to a crescendo. They swung towards each other as the music reached its peak, bodies arching in the air. 

But only people in the very front row, paying as close attention as Jason was, would have seen the sudden look of alarm on Dick's face when, just a hair too soon, his partner's fingers slipped on the bar. Her own expression was more stunned than afraid, fingers losing grip a millisecond before she was meant to let go, gravity starting to pull her straight down towards the bitterly hard wood of the stage. 

“No!” Dick didn’t even realize he had yelled it, loud and drawn out enough to be heard over the music. But he was too focused on her, on dropping through the air himself, guiding the fall as much as he could. So little time, no time, when the distance to the ground was so much shorter than in the big top. He scooped her up mid air and grabbed one of the silk scarves still dangling from the ceiling, holding on for dear life until he felt a sickening pop as his shoulder dislocated. But, despite the pain making him sweat far more than the performance had and grit his teeth hard, he halted their descent to the floor. The audience, most of which were utterly unaware anything had gone wrong, broke out into thunderous applause, convinced they had witnessed a spectacularly choreographed rescue. Dick's shoulder dislocating hadn't been loud enough to hear over the music, and his cry had been theatrical enough to pass as part of the act.

But Jason knew better. He had seen the terror in Dick's eyes right before he let go, before he fought gravity and time to save his fellow performer from what would have been at the very least a grave injury. And Jason had seen the pain in his eyes when he stopped their fall. The curtain came down with finality and the music stopped. There was an announcement of an intermission and Jason practically leapt to his feet in his rush to get back stage.

He was allowed back, his distinctive hair being more than enough for the stage hands to recognize the friend Dick had told them all about. Without much in the way of obstacles he managed to make it to Dick just after he and his partner had been lowered to the floor. There was a crowd of worried people around them, which Jason quickly joined, using his height to peek over people's heads.

“Babs, Barbara, tell me you’re alright?” Dick was saying, eyes a little glassy with what looked to Jason like shock. 

“I’m fine, Dick, really I’m okay. Oh God, your shoulder…” 

In the bright lights and makeup Jason hadn’t been able to discern much about the young woman performing alongside Dick. But he remembered the name Barbara from Dick's stories, and now that he was closer the sight of quick, intelligent eyes and a ballerina's graceful yet strong build confirmed that she was who he had been told of. Her red hair was sparkling with silver glitter like snow, and guiltily Jason realized he was jealous of her. She was beautiful, she looked perfect next to Dick.

That feeling dissolved quickly when he looked at Dick again. He was hyperventilating, and it didn’t look like it was from pain. He wasn’t even paying attention to his shoulder, his arm slumped unnaturally out of its socket. He was just staring at nothing even as Barbara attempted to get his attention. Jason gently shouldered through the crowd to get to Dick, unintentionally clearing a path for the medic to get through as well. He knelt down next to Dick, looking at Babs and back at him. 

“He's having a panic attack…” Jason said, very gently touching Dick's uninjured shoulder. He was well experienced with panic attacks. He'd had a lot of them after he'd been beaten nearly to death. “Dick, you have to breath.” 

Barbara only needed a split second to recognize Jason and understand what he was saying. Her expression full of anguish as she put the pieces together. “He watched his parents die in a trapeze accident.” She told Jason, cursing herself for not realizing sooner how her fall would effect Dick. 

The archer from the earlier performance muscled into the crowd much more roughly than Jason had. “Back the hell up, give them some room!” he roared, heavily muscled biceps efficiently shoving people out of the way. Jason didn’t move, still looking at Dick. “It's okay. You’re safe. Babs,” he looked at the woman in question a bit guiltily for using the nickname without permission but that was how Dick had always referred to her. “is alright too. You’re both safe but you need medical attention and you need to breath with me, alright? Dick, look at me.” 

It was that last instruction that broke through the fog, Dick turning his wide eyes on Jason.

“You recognize me, right? You know who I am?”

Dick nodded slowly. “Jason…” he responded hoarsely.

Jason felt his gut clench because Dick usually referred to him as Father Todd. “Yeah, it's me. Breath for me slowly, okay?” he said, very gently and soothingly. Dick looked so lost but he started to force himself to breath. 

The medic had looked him over very gingerly during this exchange, looking around at the gathered people. While the main bulk of the crowd had been shoved back, the top billed performers were all present closer to Dick and Barbara, including the archer from before, and an incredibly tall redheaded woman in a purple ensemble that could very loosely be called an outfit. There was also a pair of teenage boys, one broadly built and one lean, Jason remembered them from an earlier tumbling routine, the larger boy throwing the smaller around like he weighed nothing. There was many concerned faces, all focused on Dick. 

“He needs to get to a hospital. I could set his shoulder here but…” the medic said, frowning deeply. 

Jason read between the lines. Dick was shockey and in pain. He would likely need to be sedated before his shoulder could be properly set and considering what Dick regularly put his body through there wasn’t much margin for error in getting his shoulder healed up. 

“I’ll help.” Jason said, looking at Dick as he carefully wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled his good arm over Jason’s shoulders. He very gently and slowly hauled Dick to his feet, the older man’s reactions somewhat sluggish as he tried to cooperate. 

“We can take my car.” The archer said, leading the way to the back stage building exit. Jason followed slowly with Dick, murmuring soothingly to him as they went.

As they loaded him into the car and got going to the nearest hospital, at a speed that kicked Jason’s pulse up another notch, Dick seemed to breathe easier. He was trembling hard, though, nearly rattling Jason's teeth.

//

It replayed in painful slow motion in his head, over and over. Babs's look of fear as her fingers slipped, the breakneck tumble towards the floor, just praying he could reach her. All of it overlaid with that sickening crunch of his nightmares, the memory of broken bodies. 

“It's okay. You’re okay. You saved her, you’re gonna be okay.” Jason’s voice filtered through to him, making Dick's eyes go hot with tears. He turned his face into Jason’s neck in the back seat of that car and sobbed. Jason didn’t even flinch at the wetness sliding down his neck, just raising a hand to stroke Dick's hair and continuing to murmur soothingly. 

It had been too close, too damn close. He couldn’t even focus on his messed up shoulder, he was too caught up in the fact that it had almost happened again. He had almost lost another loved one to gravity's cruel pull. Even after all his care, all his equipment checks. He had been so careful, and she had still almost fallen straight to the floor. 

Even if she hadn’t died, she would have broken both legs, at least. And how would Babs ever forgive him if she was never able to dance again? He was the one who had talked her into learning trapeze on top of her ballet. 

“I’m so sorry…” After all, it had to be his fault somehow.

Somehow.

//


End file.
